Depression is waking up in the morning and wishing you were dead.

Depression is staring at the ceiling, memorizing the cracks and the divots and the lines the paintbrush has stroked along it, and promising yourself that you will try to get out of bed.

Depression is breaking that promise and closing your eyes again, reassuring the tiny little voice in the back of your head that dares to speak out against the monster that is depression that you will get up eventually; just five more minutes, please.

Depression is looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling revulsion rise hot and quickly in your throat like a tidal wave of lava.

Depression is feeling that hatred burn acrid through your entire body, coursing through your veins like fire that burns away any faint shred of positivity that might have dared appear.

Depression is opening the shades that cover the window to a bright sunny day and wishing for nothing more than the skies to cloud over with shades of grey and rain to start pouring down.

Depression is watching the time tick away on the clock with a desperate hope that it will somehow fly by, and you will eventually be able to return to the peaceful world of sleep.

Depression is also nightmares that keep you awake at night, staring at that same ceiling in the dark and tracing the same textures in your head.

Depression is seeing your friends talking and laughing and feeling incapable of joining them.

Depression is isolating yourself away from the rest of the world, shutting yourself up in your room where solitude settles in your bones and loneliness in your heart.

Depression is considering going outside, and then laughing hysterically and half deliriously at yourself for thinking of such a ridiculous idea.

Depression is watching people walk by outside from a distance, like little ships bobbing out on an endless stretch of sea, feeling no desire to join them.

Depression is wondering if anyone else feels the same way.

Depression is also the conviction that you are the only one who suffers from this endless and omnipresent torture.

Depression is hiding inside big, baggy clothes that offer an illusion of a shelter from the pain.

Depression is putting on a brave face for the world around you.

Depression is reassuring those who ask that everything is alright, even though it feels like nothing could be farther from the truth.

Depression is always answering with an "I'm fine," or an "It's okay," or "Nothing's wrong."

Depression is laughing inwardly to yourself at how ridiculously untrue all of those statements are.

Depression is staying up late googling symptoms of mental illnesses to yourself and trying your absolute hardest to reassure yourself that nothing is wrong.

Depression is also the incredible courage required to admit to someone that far from nothing being wrong, everything is actually wrong.

Depression is trying to find a therapist who doesn't make you feel like some sort of strange, newfound animal being examined by a scientist.

Depression is spending hours upon hours sat in a comfy chair, attempting to describe the convoluted ways in which your mind thinks.

Depression is looking at bottles of pills sat in front of you like a line of soldiers waiting to charge into battle.

Depression is wondering what it would be like to take them all and simply end it.

Depression is giggling with your friends despite the sneaking doubt whispering over and over again in your head that they don't really like you.

Depression is going out of your comfort zone every once in a while.

Depression is also a retreat back into it with hot, sticky tears coursing down your cheeks and a deep regret for ever believing you were strong enough.

Depression is grimacing at the deep-seated pain that settles in your body as if you were Atlas trying to support the weight of the entire world on your shoulders alone.

Depression is feeling like a permanent deer in headlights; as if there is a spotlight trained on you that never leaves.

Depression is walking by a random passerby on the street and immediately assuming they think you're ugly, or stupid, or dumb.

Depression is thinking that you are all those things and worse.

Depression is causing yourself physical pain and feeling an immediate rush of sick satisfaction.

Depression is raking a blade across your skin and watching blood spring to the surface like a red river.

Depression is cowering in fear of the bruises on your heart.

Depression is calling someone on the phone with sobs choking your voice and making it thick, begging for help.

Depression is also regretting the decision to ask somebody for assistance more than anything in the world.

Depression is anxiety and OCD, eating disorders and bipolar, schizophrenia and borderline personality, and every other mental illness under the sun.

Depression is me.

Depression is you.

Depression is someone you've never met before.

Depression is your oldest companion.

Depression is your best friend.

Depression is your worst enemy.

Depression is glamorized.

Depression is romanticized.

Depression is idealized.

Depression is misunderstood.

Depression is underestimated.

Depression is a desperately lonely disease.

But you do not have to fight it alone.